Dynamic Analysis
by PrincessFi
Summary: What should have been a boring project for Gibbs leads to an unexpected revelation.
1. Chapter 1

Thanks to Richefic and Twinx for reading and making very helpful suggestions. Just a bit of fun and hopefully something new!

***

Today Jethro Gibbs was pissed off. And while it was true that he lived with a low level of irritation most of the time, this was different. This time he was actually pissed off.

Damned stupid SecNav's idea. "Team Dynamic Analysis Project". I've got a better acronym, Gibbs thought grimly. Current Really Annoying Pileof.....

As a reward for his team having the best clean up rate across three agencies, Gibbs was now required to spend valuable time away from said team to explain to some shit-brick organizational psychologist how his team worked, so they could create a "model" of the most successful team structure.

The fact that the Director said that another of the aims of TDAP was to identify what additional resources and equipment his team required did not soothe Gibbs' temper one bit. It was still a damned stupid waste of his time.

Gibbs made it clear that there was no way this project was going to take precedence over any active case that came in and was almost disappointed when the Director agreed. Then no active case came in and he had no choice but to front up to the conference room for the first project "session".

The shit-brick organizational psychologist was not what he was expecting. She wasn't a red head but she was tall and slim, with thick ash blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears and dark lashed grey-blue eyes. He guessed she was about his age and pegged her for southern European, maybe northern Italian, even before she opened her mouth and introduced herself. Mariella Fillacci, she said with a warm smile and a firm handshake. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all, Gibbs thought.

And it wasn't. Dr. Fillacci knew what she was doing. She was direct, efficient and prepared. She knew what NCIS did, its structure and its priorities. What she wanted to know was whether it was possible to extract from the success of Team Gibbs any principals that could be applied to the composition and operation of other teams.

Rather than using names which, she explained, had a tendency to carry personal associations for both speaker and listener, they would discuss the strengths, weaknesses and role of "Senior Agent, Junior Agent, Overseas Liaison, Forensic Scientist and ME". And, of course, Team Leader.

She and Gibbs would discuss the overall operation of the team and the role of each team member. She wanted warts and all, she said, strengths and weaknesses. Once she had enough from him, she would meet with each team member before preparing her report. Might take a while, Gibbs thought with an enthusiasm he had not thought possible a few short hours ago.

She asked him for a brief statement on the background and experience of each team member. Gibbs stuck to the purely factual, keeping his opinions to himself. Then a general overview of how the team operated on a day to day basis. They talked about the lines of communication between the team members, the Forensic Scientist and the ME both at crime scenes and at the office. What information was most important, what came first, how decisions were made about what lines on inquiry to follow.

After a slow start Gibbs warmed to the topic and she let him speak, interrupting only to clarify specific terms and technical information. He was impressed by her insight into the thinking and behaviour that underpinned effective law enforcement. After a while he began to see the unspoken assumptions that lay behind his decisions, and the patterns that recurred in his methods. So she wasn't some ivory tower academic, he thought, beginning to think that this exercise might be some use after all.

Never had a session on an official project gone by so quickly for Gibbs.

When Dr Fillacci leant back in her chair and closed notebook, he smiled.

"All good?" he asked.

"All good," she confirmed.

"When are you going to speak to the others?"

"When I'm done with you."

Gibbs couldn't prevent the corner of his mouth twitching upwards and he gave her slight sideways glance. She caught his eyes. Did she blush a little? Or was that just his imagination?

"I think two more sessions should do it," she added, sliding the pen and pad into her brief case on the floor. "And then a short session with each of them. Another week or so to pull the report together, and then we're done."

Done already? Gibbs was not sure he liked the sound of that. But maybe "Done" was good. Because once they were done he could ask her out. If she seemed interested.

The silence stretched and neither of them moved. Say something, Gibbs thought. Something smooth.

"So," he said, with a small smile, "same time next week?"

Not smooth. Very not smooth. But he'd never been smooth. Direct, yes. Smooth, not so much.

She smiled. "Next week I want to go through each team member in detail, their strengths and weaknesses. That session may take longer, but I hope that won't be too inconvenient."

"Think I can handle it." Gibbs assured her.

"Of course," she continued, "if you're busy on a case, just let me know and we can reschedule." She held out a business card. Gibbs took it, making sure that their fingers brushed, just for a second. And this time he was sure she did blush. Not too bad, he thought wryly, but handing her his business card would have been smoother. Well, maybe he'd manage smooth next week.

As soon as he returned to Team Gibbs, Senior Agent spoke up.

"How'd it go, Boss?"

Team Leader gave a noncommittal shrug. There was a reason why his poker face was legendary. But over the course of the day he couldn't hide the slight bounce in his step, and he didn't miss the glances exchanged between Senior Agent, Junior Agent and Overseas Liaison.

They caught a few cases that week and wrapped them up pretty quickly. The day before his next appointment he found himself for the first time in his career hoping that they wouldn't catch a big case.

That next morning he did something he hadn't done in years. He hesitated about what to wear to work. In addition to his meeting with Dr Fillacci he had an inter-agency seminar on recent changes to the laws governing search and seizure obligation. It was important that NCIS appear serious and professional in front of the other agencies, especially the Hoover boys. So he wore a suit.

Senior Agent's smirk was short-lived in face of The Glare. Overseas Liaison and Junior Agent kept their heads down. Over the course of the morning Forensic Scientist and ME both visited the bullpen on spurious pretexts but neither commented on Team's Leaders uncharacteristic sartorial choice.

Dr Fillaci arrived on time, but Gibbs thwarted the curiosity of his team members by meeting her at reception and taking her to a conference room in a different area of the building. If asked, he couldn't have described what she was wearing, other than to say it looked damn fine, and his stomach did an adolescent flip when she turned and smiled warmly at him. He was following through on this one, he thought. Damn straight he was.

Business first, though. This time they shared a more detailed discussion about each team member.

Gibbs spoke about their obvious strengths, and she coaxed a few acknowledgements from him that he hadn't expected. Their faults were easy enough. God know he'd seen enough of them over the years.

It was all going smoothly. And then she asked how he handled things if the team wasn't delivering.

So Gibbs told her about The Glare. And some of the different "motivational" tools he used. Then he decided to confess. Let's see how she handles this, he thought.

"Sometimes I hit 'em," he said bluntly.

She paused, her pen raised over the page, and looked up.

"Hit them?"

"Just a little..." Gibbs raised his hand and demonstrated a quick tap in the air. "On the back of the head. It's a.... a wake up call - gets their attention and keeps them focussed."

"I see." She smiled and shook her head as she made a note. "I'm not sure how I'm going to express that in the report," she teased, "but I'll think of something".

Okay, Gibbs thought. How had she handled that? She'd got it. Better and better.

They finished with a few case studies and then she put down her pen. "Okay," she announced. "that's it for today. As I said, I'd like to have one more session with you, and to speak to the team members individually."

Gibbs nodded.

"In the next session, I want to talk about you."

Gibbs stopped nodding and looked up sharply.

"C'mon," she encouraged with a wry smile, "you knew it was coming."

Gibbs sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, drawing a chuckle from her.

"Don't worry," she placated, "this isn't therapy, I'm not going to ask about you childhood. Just about how you work as team leader."

"Can't you just read my file?"

"I've already done that."

He looked at her sharply and then turned to look at the window. He knew that since his Mexican vacation, some new information had been added to his file. "So you know about....?"

"Your first wife and your daughter? Yes." She was matter of fact. No tepid expressions of sympathy. He was grateful for it. And she didn't linger. Another good sign. "And your subsequent marriages."

He looked back at her. "Are they relevant?"

"No," she replied calmly, "but it's interesting that you married three more times. You don't strike me as impulsive, so I can only assume that you're either old fashioned or romantic."

He snorted. "Or gullible," he suggested.

"Hopeful," she corrected.

His smiling eyes met hers across the table and she held his gaze. Finally he blinked and looked down.

"It's only relevant to me to the extent that it influences your work at NCIS," she clarified, her professional demeanour back in place. "And we all make mistakes. I made mine when I was 18."

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Disastrous starter marriage," she explained. "I bet none of yours ended in deportation."

He winced. "No," he conceded. "And now?" It was an opportunity to find out if she was available and he was damned if he was going to miss it.

She looked sideways at him. "Widowed," she announced matter-of-factly, and then exclaimed. "God, isn't that an awful word! Conjures up visions of old crones dressed in black. I should just say that I'm single. My husband died three years ago."

He didn't know whether to say he was sorry – having been relieved by her lack of platitudes, it seemed hypocritical to offer his own. So he simply nodded and stood.

She rose with him, and he reached out his hand. "Thank you, Dr Fillacci."

"Mariella," she corrected.

They shook hands, retreating into the comfort of formality. She looked up at him, and her hand felt warm and soft in his. Let go of her hand, he told himself sternly. Now. Finally his hand listened.

Seven days, he thought, I can wait seven days.

Six days dragged by more slowly that he had ever thought possible.

On the seventh, Gibbs walked whistling into the bullpen dressed in his best suit, a top quality white shirt that DiNozzo had given him for Christmas and a tie that Abby had once told him was "hot".

DiNozzo, McGee and Ziva were all at their desks. They were ostensibly working but Gibbs sensed immediately that he had interrupted something. Their attention was focussed on their computers in the way it is when they really weren't focussed at all. Tony's eyes glinted with amusement, and McGee was trying too hard to look serious. Even Ziva's Mossad-issue stone face showed a few cracks. Gibbs, however, was in too good a mood to care.

"Listen up," he announced. "You will each have a meeting today with operational psychologist Dr. Mariella Fillacci who's gonna ask all of you some questions about how the team functions. Each meeting will take at least an hour. This comes direct from Sec Nav so I expect you to make yourselves available, and to be helpful and honest."

"Really honest?" Tony asked seriously. "Or just, you know, fake honest?"

Gibbs glared at him.

"Right Boss," Tony amended hastily. "Real honesty it is."

"Don't make anything up, don't leave anything out," Gibbs ordered.

He saw them exchange looks across the bullpen and was glad that he had got in first and told her about the headslaps – at least she wouldn't be taken by surprise when the inevitable happened.

Gibbs settled down to work, quickly scanning the reports left on his desk. But his mind was wandering, swinging between looking forward to seeing her and not looking forward to talking about himself.

But he should have trusted her.

"Tell me about the case involving Geoffrey White," she began, "and the Iraqi antiquities. I understand that Senior Agent went undercover?"

As she had promised, she didn't ask the sort of intrusive, personal, touchy feely questions he had been dreading. And in between questions he had the plesure of looking at her. I'm turning into a teenager, he thought, trying to be stern with himself and failing.

They finished that case and moved smoothly to another. "Cody Myers," she asked. "Tell me about that one."

And that was easy too.

A few more cases were canvassed. In each, he started by speaking about the case in general terms, and then she went through each of his decisions, analysing his reasoning and expectations. He noticed that Senior Agent featured prominently in the cases she had selected, and she asked particularly about the interaction and communication between him and Gibbs. She asked "Why?" quite a few times, but she never once asked him how he "felt".

He was surprised when she put her pen down and closed her notebook. He glanced at his watch and saw that they had run over the allotted time for their session.

"That's it?" he asked involuntarily.

"Yes it is." She smiled at him. "And that means that it's time for me to meet with the first team member."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'd like to start with Forensic Scientist or Medical Examiner, and then I'll move on to the core team members," she explained.

Gibbs moved to rise, and then hesitated.

She read his anxiety perfectly. "And of course everything you told me is confidential."

He nodded and rose.

"And equally," she continued, standing with him, "the reverse applies. Everything they tell me is also confidential."

They stood eye to eye for a minute, before he gave in with a smile and a shrug. It was only fair, he thought. No glare was required, and looking into her eyes he wasn't sure he could summon one if he tried.

He picked up the phone and dialled Ducky's extension. The Medical Examiner was available, and sounded delighted to be the first asked to attend.

Gibbs turned back to Mariella, searching for words. "Well," he settled on, extending his hand, "it's certainly been ... more enjoyable than I expected."

She took his hand in hers. Holding it a moment longer than necessary, she looked him straight in the eye. "For me, too," she affirmed with a quiet smile.

Gibbs heart thudded hugely once and his breath caught in his throat. As she continued smiling at him, he felt his mouth curve into a smile that he hoped wasn't completely stupid. Gunny, he thought, you've got it bad.

"And of course," she continued, "I may need to call you to ....check facts." She looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised.

Gibbs smile grew wider. "So you're not done with me yet?" he teased.

She smiled back at him, and looked him square in the eye. "No, Agent Gibbs," she affirmed, "I'm certainly not done with you yet."

A knock on the door broke the moment, and Gibbs cursed Ducky for his uncharacteristic display alacrity. He released Mariella's hand and growled "Enter", irritation shifting his features back into their usual sterner lines.

She spent about an hour with each of Ducky and Abby. Gibbs sent McGee in next, then Ziva, and each was longer than the last.

When Ziva returned to her desk DiNozzo was missing, having found an excuse to visit Abby, and Gibbs took advantage of his absence to head to the conference room.

"All going okay?" he asked, watching as Mariella stood and stretched the kinks out of her neck and back.

She nodded and smiled. "Nearly done. Just Senior Agent now, although he might take a while."

"Oh, I'd put money on it," Gibbs commented. He watched her roll her shoulders. "He's juststepped out for a minute. Why don't you come out into the bull pen? It's not fresh air, but it's fresher than in here."

She smiled in acquiescence "You wouldn't have any decent coffee in this place would you?" she asked hopefully, as he stepped back to allow her to precede him out of the room.

"I'm sure I can find some."

Gibbs was not surprised to see Ducky leaning on the partition in the bullpen speaking to Ziva and McGee. The two agents and the ME all greeted Mariella with smiles.

"Where's DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, eying the still empty desk.

Ziva glanced at Gibbs and answered slowly. "I phoned him and he is on his way up from Forensics."

Mariella's head snapped around to face him. "DiNozzo?" she repeated, surprised.

Gibbs' eyes fixed on Mariella. "Yeah," he confirmed. "My Senior Agent, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Anthony DiNozzo?" Mariella asked, her eyes widening. "From Long Island? Son of Dominic DiNozzo of DiNozzo Enterprises?"

Gibbs nodded slowly, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Ziva and McGee exchanged glances.

"Oh dear," Mariella said softly, raising one hand to her lips. She stepped closer to Gibbs. "Um, Gibbs ..." she began, her voice low, "I think I should explain. You remember that I mentioned an unfortunate "starter marriage"? I was very young and it..."

She was interrupted by the arrival of the lift. Tony's laughing voice floated across to the rest of the team. "I'm serious, he's worn a suit every time...."

They rounded the partition and froze. Abby winced and dropped her eyes to her boots. Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing qualifying as speech emerged.

Mariella was not so silent. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, mouth open. "Anthony!"

Tony's eyes widened. He stared at the woman before him. Then took in Gibbs' ferocious glare. Then looked back to the woman.

Finally he fixed his most pleading gaze on his Team Leader. "I swear to god Boss," he said devoutly, raising his hands palms out, shaking his head, "I have never seen this woman before in my life."

Mariella stepped up to him. "Anthony? Don't you recognise me? It's Mariella. Mella?"

Tony's eyes snapped back to her and widened. "Mella?" he breathed.

She nodded, and moved as if to step towards him, then stilled.

"How ... how are you?" Tony finally managed to ask.

She gave him soft laugh, shaking her head. "I'm fine Anthony," she replied, her eyes bright. "But look at you! You look ... well, wonderful."

Gibbs could feel the space where his stomach had been slowly hardening into concrete. The first woman he'd been attracted to in too damn long and DiNozzo, of all people, why did it have to be DiNozzo ......

"So do you," he heard Tony reply softly.

They stood there, looking at each other, and then spoke simultaneously, words overlapping.

"I really missed you..." he began.

"I'm so sorry I left you ..." she confessed.

"You were right to leave you - were miserable..."

"But not like that...."

Could this get any worse? Gibbs thought in incredulous disbelief. What next? A hug?

Yes, was the answer to his unspoken question. It could get worse. Oblivious to the blatant curiosity of his teammates and the granite expression of his Team Leader, Tony stepped forward and gently folded his long arms around Mariella, pulling her to him. And she returned the embrace.

They stood like that for a few seconds and then each loosened their arms and looked at the other.

Tony shook his head in wonderment. "So you're who Gibbs has been meeting with? I can't believe it. I heard your name, but it just didn't register...."

"My name is Fillacci now, not DiNozzo," she explained with fond smile.

Tony's smiled back, but then his expression grew sombre. "I did miss you," he confessed quietly. "You were my favourite, you know."

His favourite, Gibbs thought. Well that's nice. At least she was his favourite. Bitterness drove all other coherent thought from his head.

"The one who came after you wanted me to call her "Mom"," Tony continued, shaking his head. "I offered to call her a cab instead."

Gibbs started. "Mom"? he thought. "What the ....?"

Tony looked up and met Gibbs' puzzled eyes. "Boss?" he asked.

Gibbs realised that he had spoken aloud. He tried to form a question, but nothing came out.

Mariella glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Gibbs' expression. She immediately dropped her arms from around Tony and stepped away, realisation dawning on her face. "Oh, Gibbs, no, it's not like that. When I was a student, I came to America to study and I, I, ..."

"She married my father," Tony finished.

This time Gibbs did not even try to stop his jaw dropping. He dimly registered the sounds of Ziva gasping and Ducky quietly muttering "My word!"

Tony stared at Gibbs for a moment, studying his face. Then one corner of his mouth twitched up and his eyes began to sparkle. Stepping forward, he rested one hand gently on Mariella's back. "She was my Stepmom, Boss," he said accusatorily. "I mean, I was precocious, but that was a little young, even for me. Of course, later, older women were ..."

Gibbs stepped forward and smacked him firmly on the back of the head. "Shut up, DiNozzo."

Mariella looked between the two men and shook her head. "I can't believe it," she murmured. "I can't believe that the Senior Agent you've been telling me about is my ....."

"Stop right there!" Tony interjected raising his hand. "That nickname? I think it's best if we both try to forget it."

"Deal," she conceded with an indulgent laugh.

Then she looked between him and Gibbs. "Actually, I take it back. I can see how you could have grown to be the Senior Agent that I've been hearing about."

"Don't believe a word he says," Tony protested immediately.

She laughed again. "I will draw my own conclusions." She turned and looked fully at him, resting one hand on either of his arms and looking him up and down. "What I can't believe is how big you are – you were such a skinny little kid..."

"You have photos?" Ziva asked, exchanging a mischievous grin with McGee.

Mariella looked up at Tony, but her smiled faded and soft sadness coloured her eyes. "I should have done something more, for you," she repeated softly.

Tony shook his head. "My father had you deported, remember?" he protested. "What more could you do? Smuggle me out in your backpack?"

She shrugged but her eyes, still fixed on his face, were full of questions.

"We'll talk about it later," Tony said quietly, before moving to link his arm through hers, "but right now, aren't you meant to be interviewing me for your report on Team Gibbs?"

She winced. "Yes I am. And I'm going to have to disclose this in my report. Thank goodness I spoke to everyone else first. It shouldn't be a problem."

Tony smiled at her. Then he looked back at Gibbs, taking in narrow eyed gaze and the new suit. His grin widened.

The mischievous glint was not missed by his Team Leader.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned, his voice like a blade. "Watch yourself."

"But Boss," Tony objected, eyes wide with innocence. "You told me to be honest. Really truly honest."

Gibbs glared.

Mariella shifted her glance from Senior Agent to Team Leader, and smiled.

"Don't worry, Agent Gibbs," she offered. "You'll have a chance to correct any ...misunderstandings that arise. As I said," she began lead to Tony towards the conference room but glanced back at Gibbs and smiled, "I'm not done with you yet."

FF_1569342_193543737


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs had resolved to wait for Mariella to submit her report before asking her out. Tony knew this. And Gibbs knew that Tony knew this. But unlike Gibbs, Tony had not felt constrained by protocol and had taken Mariella out for coffee. More than once. And Gibbs knew it because Tony made sure he knew it.

It took Mariella Fillacci two weeks to finish and submit her report. And in that time a small crack opened up between Gibbs and his Senior Agent. Opened up, creaked, grew, expanded. It became a fissure, and then a crevasse.

Tony had been uncharacteristically silent - other than when speaking loudly about having coffee with Mariella. He had been distracted and preoccupied - unless the conversation turned to Mariella's report. Once when Tony was waiting for the elevator and the doors opened to reveal Gibbs, Tony had visibly started and then hesitated before entering the elevator, only to stand stiff and silent at Gibbs' side.

Gibbs was at a loss to work out exactly what his senior agent was playing at. He didn't see any reason why he shouldn't ask Mariella out, notwithstanding her previous marriage to Tony's father. But Tony's increasingly strained behaviour was starting to make him wonder about the possible repercussions of doing so.

As it turned out, when the day finally came he didn't have to do the asking. She phoned him.

Gibbs was impressed - and relieved. As soon as he spoke to her, his doubts vanished. All the reasons why he had been so attracted to her came back to him threefold. Smart, funny, intriguing. She charmed him. And when she asked him to have dinner she did it in such a natural and easy way that accepting was a no-brainer. His confidence restored and with a steady buzz of anticipation in his gut, Gibbs found it easier to ignore the stiff posture and deepening silence on the other side of the bullpen.

The team spent most of the day of the date in the office tying up the loose ends on a drug case. In the mid afternoon, Gibbs rose from his chair to go to autopsy to see Ducky, and was surprised to see Tony also rise. As Tony stepped into the elevator behind him, Gibbs braced himself for whatever might be coming.

He wasn't surprised when Tony hit the Emergency Stop button.

The two men faced each other and Gibbs waited. Tony drew a deep breath and opened his mouth. Then he closed it, looked down and rubbed his hand over his chin. Gibbs waited. Tony looked up, swallowed and tried again.

"Um, Boss, look, I mean.."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, DiNozzo," he demanded. "Just say it." He squared his shoulders.

"It's about Mariella."

"No kidding."

Tony's eyes narrowed.

Gibbs frowned. Was DiNozzo going to warn him off? Surely he wasn't interested in her romantically....?

"She's already had one bastard in her life. She doesn't need another."

Gibbs started. It took a second for the words to sink in. And then to burn. "What the hell does that mean, DiNozzo?" he snarled.

Tony stepped closer to him. "The Second B, remember?" They stood nose to nose, Tony returning Gibbs' glare. "Just don't hurt her Boss." He didn't blink, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.

In that second Gibbs realized two things. First, Tony was motivated by a genuine, albeit misguided, protective instinct towards Mariella. Second, the strange behaviour he had seen over the past fortnight had been his Senior Agent steeling himself for this conversation.

Gibbs' fire turned to smoke. His eyes softened and he resisted the urge to smile. Instead, he rested a gentle hand on Tony's arm.

"I'm not always a bastard, Tony," he said quietly. "And I'll be doing my damnedest not to be one with her. I give you my word."

Tony studied Gibbs' face for a moment, looking deep into his eyes. Then he ducked his head. Gibbs held his breath. Finally one corner of Tony's mouth twitched and, head still bowed, he looked up at Gibbs from under his brows.

"You'd better, Boss." The tone was stern, but there was no mistaking the teasing half smile.

Gibbs relaxed and gave a wry smile of his own. "I will Tony, I promise." Then he smiled a little more broadly. "So I have your blessing?" he asked, half serious.

"Well, that depends," Tony shot back, his head coming up. "What am I blessing?"

Gibbs gave a shout of laughter. "Are you asking me what my intentions are?"

Tony grinned. "Don't think I want quite that much information, Boss." He reached over and released the Emergency Stop button.

"Where are you taking her?" he asked conversationally.

"Rossilini's".

"Good choice."

"Her choice."

Tony smiled and gave him a sideways glance. "You know that if she pays, you have to put out."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. The elevator doors opened and he stepped forward, but Tony kept talking, even as the doors began to close between them.

"Wear that purple shirt," he called out, "but no tie. And for god's sake no undershirt."

Gibbs' retreating back hid his grin from Tony's view.

****

Gibbs wore his black dress trousers and the purple shirt, with no tie or undershirt.

He was early, not out of nervousness, but because he didn't like to leave a lady sitting alone in a restaurant.

Habit made him scan the restaurant, but as soon as she walked in he stopped looking anywhere else.

She wore a dark blue knee length dress of a soft jersey fabric that swung as she walked, and heavy, matte silver jewellery. The restaurant's dim lights caught the colour of her hair, and for a brief ridiculous moment Gibbs thought she glowed.

He stood as she approached and moved around the table to greet her. She gave him what could have been an appreciative glance and he hoped he wasn't imagining it. She greeted him with a kiss on each check and he hoped it wasn't just because she was European. She smiled at him and he just hoped she would keep doing it.

"That colour suits you," she commented as she settled in her chair.

"My fashion consultant recommended it."

She smiled and did not need to ask more.

The waiter descended and poured them each a glass from the bottle of champagne that Gibbs had ordered on arriving.

He raised his glass. "To Sec Nav," he proposed.

She clinked her glass against his and added, "And his fondness for special projects."

Gibbs smiled.

As she lowered her glass she gave him a teasing smile. "There is one question," she began, "that I couldn't ask you before because it had absolutely nothing to do with the project. But I really need to know. You don't have to answer if you don't want to...."

"Ask away," Gibbs said his tone more wary than his words.

She leaned forwards and looked him in the eye. He mimicked her movement and returned her gaze.

"Leroy? Jethro?"

He laughed. They started talking. Childhood, school days, parents and best friends, pranks and presents. She told him about her daughters, 18 and 20, one studying in Europe, the other out west. It was easy. She was funny. And so was he – or at least he thought he was - she laughed at the right times.

They barely touched on work, but there was one question he wanted to ask and he waited until the end of the evening, when they were enjoying coffees. He drew a breath and she looked at him, her head tilted.

"Ask away," she said, reading his silence and echoing his words.

He hesitated. His question was not as easy as her had been, but he asked anyway.

"Why were you so sorry about leaving Tony when you left his father?"

She glanced down, her smile fading. She paused and he knew that she was considering her answer.

Finally she spoke. "When I first met Tony, he was 11. His mother had died about a year before." She licked her lips, and her brow furrowed. "He was just so... lonely. He had no-one. His father was distant, pre-occupied with work. And with me."

She looked up and paused.

"I was with his father for about 18 months. During that time, I saw Tony change so much. He became happier, friendlier. Funny as a fit. Bright, clever. And sweet." She shrugged. "And then I left. I knew how it would feel to him – another abandonment. But I convinced myself that he'd be okay, that he had overcome his grief, that he'd continue to be happy. That he and his father would..."

She looked down at her coffee and turned the spoon over in her hands. "When I started studying psychology I found myself thinking about him again. Wondering if what I had thought was neglect was more. Worse. I never convinced myself either way, but it worried me for such a long time..."

"Do you have an answer now?" Gibbs asked quietly.

She nodded and looked up. "I do," she affirmed.

"And you're not going to tell me."

"It's not my place."

"I understand." He nodded, and then shot her a glance. "He's happy now, isn't he?"

"Very," she confirmed with a smile.

Gibbs smiled, relieved. That was enough of an answer, for now.

Then his smile widened. "He gave me a good talking to earlier today. About you. Stopped just short of asking my intentions."

She shouted with laughter and then covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh that is so sweet!" she exclaimed. "And so typical."

Gibbs shook his head. Obviously, Mariella's view of what was "typical" for Tony was different from his.

"Well, it was a new experience for me," he retorted. He smiled at her and glanced at her hand, still fiddling with the spoon. Moving slowly so as to give her time to evade him, he reached his hand across the table towards her. To his delight, she abandoned the spoon and her hand met his in the middle of the table. He turned her hand over and rubbed his thumb across her palm.

"So did he give you his blessing?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"He did," Gibbs responded solemnly.

Her smile broadened. "Well then," she asked, "what are you waiting for?"

He called for the cheque.

*****

Gibbs whistled the next morning as he walked from his car to the lift. But when he caught sight of his reflection in the back of the mirrored doors of the elevator, he started. Okay, that wouldn't do. He had to get that look off his face. He thought about something that annoyed him. Meetings with the NSA. Long meetings. With power point presentations. Yep, that did it.

He didn't miss Tony's quick glance as he passed him, or the second, longer look after he was settled at his desk. He ignored both, but was conscious of it when the scrutiny finally lifted. He managed not to sigh with relief. Or to smirk. Smirking, he knew, would be very bad.

Fortunately they caught a case. Fortunate, because it gave him and Tony something to focus on and a framework within which they could interact normally. It didn't take long for the ease of long familiarity to wipe away any lingering trace of awkwardness between them.

Gibbs did manage to find a few minutes to himself that afternoon to make a quick phone call. It went to Mariella's voice mail and he left a short message, simply saying that he had enjoyed last night and that he looked forward to seeing her again. He paused at the end of the message, trying to say more, and hoping she could read his silence for what it was.

They had dinner again later that week. She cooked. He brought wine, and flowers.

They organised to have lunch later in the week and on the day she walked into the bullpen right on time at 12.30pm. Gibbs rose from his chair to greet her, noticing that Tony mirrored his movement. To Gibbs surprise, Mariella stopped at Tony's desk. Reaching into her handbag, she extracted a computer disk and handed it to him.

"For you," she announced with a smile and a flourish.

"What? What is that?" Tony asked anxiously, turning the disk over in his hands.

"Just something I put together."

Tony stared at the object in his hands as if it might explode, and didn't notice Ziva stealthily moving towards him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again she snatched the disk from his hand and retreated to her desk. Tony took one step away from his desk, but found the solid form of McGee blocking his way.

"Out of the way Probie!" Tony shouted as Ziva quickly loaded the disk into her computer.

"Tony, it's okay," Mariella interjected, touching him on the arm. She gave Ziva a calculating sideways glance. "Really, it's okay."

Tony hesitated as Ziva's hands flew over her keyboard. A couple of quick clicks and an image appeared on the plasma.

Tony turned and gasped. "No, stop," he begged, "please. I'm willing to offer cash incentives...."

Mariella laughed, but the rest of the team turned and gazed open mouthed at the image on the screen. It was a photo of young Tony, aged about 12. He sat on a piano stool, shirtless and with long red shorts hanging from narrow hips. He was tanned and his sandy hair tousled and spiked, as if he had just emerged from the water. His future height was evident in the long lines of his forearms, the bare feet dangling to the floor and his fingers, which rested on the keys. He was side on to the camera but turning to look at the lens, his mouth just starting to curve into a smile, as if he had someone he was pleased to see had just walked into the room.

The image changed and there he was again, still in his red shorts, this time glistening with water and sitting on the edge of a swimming pool. He was grinning; a skinny, golden, tousled-headed, bright-eyed kid wearing adult Tony's wide, joyous up-to-no-good grin.

"Do you remember when your father went to South America?" Mariella asked, glancing away from the screen and moving to stand by Tony's side.

Tony's expression softened and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. "Salina," he breathed.

Mariella turned back to Gibbs. "My friend Salina came and stayed with us for a week. She was a photography student. She loved Tony – thought he was a wonderful model."

"She was a goddess," Tony added awestruck, eyes still distant.

"She was rather," Mariella acknowledged with a smile.

The image changed again, but this time Tony was barely visible. Most of the photograph was taken up by a giant green wedge of watermelon, two small hands firmly gripping it from underneath. Tony's paler green eyes and shock of brown blonde hair were all that was visible above it, the rest of his face buried in the fruit. McGee snorted and Ziva gave a shout of laughter. Gibbs ducked his head to hide his smile.

"I liked watermelon!" Tony protested.

Tony was not alone in the next shot. Barefoot and wearing his ubiquitous red shorts, but topped with a white t-shirt, he and a younger Mariella stood facing each other. His hand on her waist, her's on his shoulder, their other hands clasped. They stood in silhouette, afternoon sun coming through picture windows behind them, caught in a dancing lesson, the moment before the music starts.

Now Ziva wasn't the only one staring at the screen. The light behind her made the young Mariella's summer dress almost see through, and Gibbs' breath caught in his chest. Her friend was a goddess? he thought incredulously. Then what the hell was she?

The images kept changing. Tony on a diving board. Tony playing checkers, doing a jigsaw, Tony in a kitchen with a round, laughing older woman, both of them rolling dough with floured hands. They were images of a healthy, happy, handsome boy. Loved, cared for, remembered.

He glanced towards Mariella, and noticed that she had moved to Tony and wrapped an arm around his waist. Tony draped his arm over her shoulders. As Gibbs watched, Tony pulled Mariella closer to him and dropped a soft kiss on her hair.

"Grazia," he whispered.

"Prego, bello ragazzo," was the quiet answer.

Gibbs realised that Tony was important to Mariella, and she was to him. It was part of the deal. In the past he had kept his relationships very separate from work and he had intended that he would always do so. But this time he did not have that option. Tony was involved, whether Gibbs liked it or not. Did he like it? No. Was she worth him learning to put up with it? Hell yes.

Gibbs moved to stand beside Mariella on the other side of Tony.

"C'mon," he said softly, gesturing with his head toward the lift. Mariella smiled and dropped her arm from around Tony's waist. She gave him an affectionate pat and then moved away to take Gibbs' proffered arm.

"Where you kids going?" Tony asked immediately. McGee and Ziva glanced momentarily away from the still changing screen.

"Lunch," Gibbs responded evenly, quashing the instinctive urge to snap out the answer or turn on The Glare.

Tony's eyes narrowed at Gibbs' deliberately neutral tone and expression. The moment stretched.

And then broke.

"Okay," Tony acquiesced cheerfully. "Have fun." He sat back at his desk.

Gibbs shook his head but Mariella smiled and tugged him gently towards the elevator.

"Don't be late," Tony called to their retreating backs. "Don't take drinks from strangers."

His voice followed them as they stepped in to the lift and the doors began to close. "And drive safely!"


End file.
